Even the grave uncle of the luckless nephew had to laugh as he thought of the slim legs pursuing their travels in the short but enormous "priches" fetched from fatherland.

"How much were your breeches worth?" Lord said, taking out some money.

"I don't know--I don't keeps priches to sell; may pe vun tollar."

Betterson gave the German a dollar, saying,--

"Allow me to pay for them; for, if I mistake not, you will never see the young man or your breeches again."

He was quite right: the German never did.

Neither--it may as well be said here--did Radcliff's own relatives see him again for many years. What various adventures were his can only be surmised, until one of the "Philadelphia partners," settling up his accounts with the world, left him a legacy of six thousand dollars, when he once more bloomed out as a fine gentleman, and favored his Western friends with a visit.

He ran through his little fortune in a few months, and once more disappeared from view, to turn up again, five or six years later (when Jack and Vinnie saw him for the last time), as a runner for one of the great Chicago hotels.

CHAPTER XL.

PEAKSLOW'S HOUSE-RAISING.

"Mercy on me!" said Caroline, hearing an unusual noise in the front part of the house; "now we are to have the racket of those Peakslow children!

What could you have been thinking of, Lavinia dear? I'm sure _I_ didn't know what I was saying when I gave _my_ consent to their coming. The idea of their turning our library into a kitchen! Not that I blame _you_, Lavinia dear. _I_ ought to have considered."

"Surely you wouldn't have denied the houseless family a shelter?" Vinnie replied. "That would have seemed too bad, with those great chambers unoccupied. As for the _library_,"--Vinnie smiled, for the unfurnished room called by that choice name had nothing in it but a fireplace,--"I don't think any harm can happen to that."

Vinnie had a plan regarding the Peakslow children, which she laid before Mrs. Peakslow as soon as the new inmates were fairly settled in the house.

"Since my sister and the baby have been so much better, I have begun a little school, with only two scholars,--Cecie and Lilian. Wouldn't your children like to join it? I think it would be pleasant."

"Whuther they would or not, I'd like to have 'em," replied Mrs.

Peakslow, gratefully. "The chances for schoolin' is dreffle slim in this country; we've no school-house within nigh two mile. But how shall I pay ye?"

"You needn't mind about that."

"Yes, I shall mind too. We must do somethin' for you in return."

"Well, then," said Vinnie, "if you like, you may let one of the girls help a little in my sister's kitchen, to make up for the time I spend with them."

"I'll do it, sartin! You shall have Lyddy. She's a good smart hand at housework, and you may git all out of her you can."

So it was arranged. The little school of two was increased to five; the "parlor"--used only to store grain in hitherto--was turned into a school-room; and Lyddy worked in Mrs. Betterson's kitchen.

"Lavinia dear, you _are_ an extraordinary girl!" said Caroline. "It seems the greatest miracle of all to see one of the Peakslows washing _our_ dishes!"

No one was better pleased with this arrangement than Jack, who could never be reconciled to seeing Vinnie--with all her health and strength and cheery spirits--doing the hardest of the housework.

Jack took early occasion, on visiting Long Woods, to go and see Mr.

Peakslow, and make him a frank apology for having once suspected Zeph of taking his compa.s.s. But he got only an ugly scowl and surly grunt for his pains.

For a while Peakslow did not go near his family, quartered in his enemy's house; but slept in the haystack, with Dud and Zeph, and ate the meals his wife cooked and sent to him three times a day.

But soon Dud went to sleep at the "castle," and found he had nothing more formidable to meet than Vinnie's bright eyes,--for Dud had suddenly developed into a bashful youth.

Zeph in a night or two followed his example, and Peakslow was left alone in his haystack.

And the nights were growing chill; and the repair of the buildings went on slowly, carpenters being scarce; and Peakslow, who had a heart for domestic comforts, began to yearn for the presence of his family at mealtime and bedtime.

At length he stole into the house after dark one evening, and stole out again before light the next morning. That did not seem to hurt him; on the contrary, it suited Peakslow; his neighbor's house was better than a haystack. Then he came to supper and stayed to breakfast. Then there was no good reason why he should not come to dinner; and he came accordingly.

Then he stopped after dinner one day to see how Vinnie conducted her little school, and went away looking wonderfully thoughtful. The boys remembered that he did not scold them so sharply that afternoon as he had been wont to do since the tornado disturbed his temper.

One morning, as he was going out, Peakslow saw Lord Betterson in the yard, and advanced awkwardly toward him, holding his hat in one hand and scratching his head with the other. There was, after all, a vein of diffidence in the rough quartz of the man's character; and somehow, on this occasion, he couldn't help showing his neighbor a good deal of respect.

"I'm a-gun to have a bee this arternoon,--a raisin',--gun to try to git the logs back on to the house, an' the ruf on to the shed,--everything ready,--some o' the neighbors comin' to help,--and if you an' your boys can lend a hand, I'll do as much for you some time."

"Surely; very glad to serve you, Neighbor Peakslow," Lord Betterson replied, in his magnificently polite way, much as if he had been a monarch dismissing a foreign amba.s.sador.

Jack came over to Long Woods that afternoon, and, having rectified Mrs.

Wiggett's noon-mark, stopped at Peakslow's raising on his way back up the valley.

He found a group of men and boys before the house, partaking of some refreshments,--sweetened whiskey and water, pa.s.sed round in a pail with a tin dipper by Zeph, and "nut-cakes" and "turn-overs," served by Mrs.

Peakslow and 'Lecty Ann.

The sight of Snowfoot tied to his fence made Peakslow glare; nor was his ruffled spirit smoothed when he saw Jack come forward with a cheery face and a compa.s.s in his hand.

Jack greeted the Bettersons, Mr. Wiggett, and one or two others he knew, and was talking pleasantly with them, when Peakslow pushed the inverted cut-water of his curved beak through the crowd, and confronted him.

"So that air's the compa.s.s, is it?"

"This is the compa.s.s, Mr. Peakslow."

"Keep it in yer hand, now'days, do ye? Don't trust it in the wagon? Good idee! No danger of its bein' stole, an' your comin' agin to 'cuse my boys of the theft!"

Peakslow's ancient wrath rekindled as he spoke; his voice trembled and his eyes flamed.

Jack kept his temper admirably, and answered with a frank and honest face,--

"I have made the best amends I could for that mistake, by apologizing to you for it, Mr. Peakslow. I don't keep the compa.s.s in my hand because I am afraid it may be stolen. I have called--as I promised Mrs. Peakslow the other day that I would do--to give her a noon-mark on her kitchen floor."

"How's this?--promised her?--I don't understand that!" growled Peakslow.

"Yes, pa!" said Mrs. Peakslow, with a frightened look. "I seen him to Mis' Betterson's. He'd made a noon-mark for Mis' Wiggett, and Mis'

Betterson's sister asked me if I wouldn't like one, as he was comin' to make them one some day."

Off went Peakslow's hat, and into his bushy hair went his fingers again, while he stammered out,--